


w 



a 


\ 


\r\ 




Glass 
Book 



Copyright N°_ 



- 



u 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




ROBERT BROWNING 



>erv*/ar; 











From Day to Day 

With the 

Brownings 












COMPILED BY 

WALLACE AND FRANCES RICE 












NEW YORK 

BARSE & HOPKINS 

PUBLISHERS 











Copyright, 1911, 

BY 

BARSE & HOPKINS 



it 



©CI.A2924 >5 



' 



FROM DAY TO DAY WITH 
THE BROWNINGS 



JANUARY 

January First 
What are we set on earth for? Say, to toil; 
Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines 
For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, 
And Death's mild curfew shall from work 
assoil. 
God did anoint thee with His odorous oil, 
To wrestle, not to reign ; and He assigns 
All thy tears over, like pale crystallines, 
For younger fellow-workers of the soil 
To wear for amulets. So others shall 

Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand, 

From thy hand and thy heart and thy brave 

cheer, 

And God's grace fructify through thee to all. 

The least flower with a brimming cup may 

stand, 
And share its dewdrop with another near. 

Work. 
January Second 
Oh, make us happy and you make us good. 
The Ring and the Book. 

[7] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

vjojvv^c y{* v^v vj* vjv viv>?^7^ w y$< y$\ yp: y$< y$* t^W^ 

January Third 

Lovers grow cold, men learn to hate their wives, 
And only parents' love can last our lives. 

Pippa Passes. 

January Fourth 
I thought how once Theocritus had sung 

Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for 

years, 
Who each one in a gracious hand appears 
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: 
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, 
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, 
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, 
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung 
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 
'ware, 
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move 
Behind me, and drew me backward by the 
hair ; 
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, — 
"Guess now who holds thee?"— "Death," I 
said. But, there, 
The silver answer rang, — "Not Death, but 
Love." — Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

January Fifth 
Love is so different with us men. 

In a Year. 

[8] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

January Sixth 

We mortals cross the ocean of this world 
Each in his average cabin of a life — 
The best's not big, the worst yields elbow-room. 
Now for our six months' voyage — how prepare? 
Bishop Blougram's Apology. 



January Seventh 

Progress is 
The Law of life — man is not Man as yet. 
Nor shall I deem his object served, his end 
Attained, his genuine strength put fairly forth, 
While only here and there a star dispels 
The darkness, here and there a towering mind 
O'erlooks its prostrate fellows : when the host 
Is out at once to the despair of night, 
When all mankind alike is perfected, 
Equal in full-blown powers — then, not till then, 
I say, begins man's general infancy. 

Paracelsus. 



January Eighth 

I find earth not gray but rosy, 
Heaven not grim but fair of hue. 

At the "Mermaid." 

[9] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

January Ninth 

When a man's busy, why, leisure 
Strikes him as wonderful pleasure; 
'Faith, and at leisure once is he? 
Straightway he wants to be busy. 

The Glove. 
January Tenth 

Love, if you knew the light 

That your soul casts in my sight, 

How I look to you 

For the pure and true, 
And the beauteous and the right. 

A Lover's Quarrel. 

January Eleventh 

Men are not angels, neither are they brutes: 
Something we may see, all we cannot see. 

Bishop Blougram's Apology, 

January Twelfth 

The common problem, yours, mine, every one's, 
Is not to fancy what were fair in life 
Provided it could be — but, finding first 
What may be, then find how to make it fair 
Up to our means — a very different thing! 
Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

[10] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
yp. >i«t v^c v*v v|< v^c viv y^^K'M^i y^y^y^y^y^y^y^'y^ 

January Thirteenth 

What does Man see or feel or apprehend 
Here, there, and everywhere, but faults to mend, 
Omissions to supply, — one wide disease 
Of things that are, which man at once would 

ease, 
Had will but power and knowledge? 

Francis Furini. 

January Fourteenth 

Duty be mine to tread in that high sphere 
Where love from duty ne'er disparts, I trust, 
And two halves make that whole, whereof — 

since here 
One must suffice a man — why, this one must! 

Bifurcation. 

January Fifteenth 

There are flashes struck from midnights, 

There are fire-flames noondays kindle, 
Whereby piled-up honors perish, 

Whereby swoln ambitions dwindle, 
While just this or that poor impulse, 

Which for once had play unstifled, 
Seems the whole work of a lifetime, 

That away the rest have trifled. 

Christina. 

[ii] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

January Sixteenth 

In every man's career are certain points 
Whereon he dare not be indifferent; 
The world detects him clearly, if he is, 
As baffled at the game, and losing life. 

Bishop Blou gram's Apology. 

January Seventeenth 

You have seen better days, dear? So have I — 

And worse too, for they brought no such bud- 
mouth 

As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" 
Well, 

Wise men, 'tis said, have sometimes wished the 
same, 

And wished and had their trouble for their 
pains. 

Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau. 

January Eighteenth 

If we had but faith — wherein we fail — 
Whate'cr Ave yearn for would be granted us; 
Howbeit we let our whims prescribe despair, 
Our very fancies thwart and cramp our will, 
And so accepting life abjure ourselves! 

In a Balcony. 

[12] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

January Nineteenth 

Loving! what claim to love has work of mine? 

Concede my life were emptied of its gains 
To furnish forth and fill work's strict confine, 
Who works so for the world's sake — he com- 
plains 
With cause when hate, not love, rewards his 
pains. 
I looked beyond the world for truth and beauty: 
Sought, found, and did my duty. 

Ferishtah's Fancies. 

January Twentieth 

I have but to be by thee, and thy hand 

Will never let mine go, nor heart withstand 

The beating of my heart to reach its place. 
When shall I look for thee and find thee gone? 
When cry for the old comfort and find none? 

Never, I know ! Thy soul is in thy face. 
Any Wife to Any Husband. 

January Twenty-first 

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the 

life ; 
Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate ! 
Bishop Blou gram's Apology. 

[13] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

W w v?k vt*. i^k vfK W v^y^y^n^ni^y^y^ y^. vf< T^TF 

January Twenty-second 

I worked with patience which means almost 

power : 
I did some excellent things indifferently, 
Some bad things excellently. Both were praised, 
The latter loudest. — Aurora Leigh. 

January Twenty-third 

All actual heroes are essential men, 
And all men possible heroes. — Aurora Leigh. 

January Twenty-fourth 

All that I know 

Of a certain star 
Is, it can throw 

(Like the angled spar) 
Now a dart of red, 

Now a dart of blue; 
Till my friends have said 
They would fain see, too, 
My star that dartles the red and the blue! 
Then it stops like a bird ; like a flower, hangs 
furled : 
They must solace themselves with the Saturn 
above it. 
What matter to me if their star is a world? 
Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I 
love it. — My Star. 

[14] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

January Twenty-fifth 

That low man seeks a little thing to do, 

Sees it and does it: 
This high man, with a great thing to pursue, 

Dies ere he knows it. 
That low man goes on adding one to one, 

His hundred's soon hit: 
This high man, aiming at a million, 

Misses an unit. 

A Grammarian's Funeral. 

January Twenty-sixth 

What so wild as words are? 

A Woman's Last Word. 

January Twenty-seventh 

Who hears music, feels his solitude 
Peopled at once. 

Balaustiori's Adventure. 

January Twenty-eighth 

As well affirm that your eye is no longer in 
your body, because its earliest favorite, what- 
ever it may have first loved to look on, is dead 
and done with — as that any affection is lost to 
the soul when its first object, whatever happened 
first to satisfy it, is superseded in due course. 

Pippa Passes. 

[15] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

Tpr^ :^ vjv vj* yp vj* y^y^ vi* vjv v^v v?vv?v>^ >^- t^tt^t 

January Twenty-ninth 

What's the earth 
With all its art, verse, music, worth — ■ 
Compared with love, found, gained, and kept? 

Dis aliter Visum. 

January Thirtieth 

Wish no word unspoken, want no look away ! 
What if words were but mistake, and looks — 

too sudden, say! 
Be unjust for once, Love! Bear it, well I may ! 

Do me justice always? bid my heart — their 

shrine — 
Render back its store of gifts, old looks and 

words of thine 
— Oh, so all unjust — the less deserved, the more 

divine ? 

Ferishtah's Fancies. 

January Thirty-first 

Religion's all or nothing ; it's no mere simile 
O' contentment, sigh of aspiration, sir — 
No quality o' the finelier-tempered clay 
Like its whiteness or its lightness ; rather stuff 
O' the very stuff, life of life, and self of self. 
Mr. Sludge the Medium. 

[16] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y^y^y^y^y^y^y^y^y^y^ v*v y|V v^y >?* v^- yp 7$k7F 

FEBRUARY 

February First 
God be with thee, my beloved, — God be with 
thee! 
Else alone thou goest forth, 
Thy face unto the north, 
Moor and pleasance all around thee and be- 
neath thee 
Looking equal in one snow ; 
While I, who try to reach thee, 
Vainly follow, vainly follow 
With the farewell and the hollo, 
And cannot reach thee so. 
Alas, I can but teach thee! 
God be with thee, my beloved, — God be with 
thee! — A Valediction. 

February Second 
Eyes shall meet eyes and find no eyes between, 

Lips feed on lips, no other lips to fear! 
No past, no future — so thine arms but screen 
The present from surprise! not there, 'tis 
here — ■ 
Not then, 'tis now: — back, memories that in- 
trude ! 
Make, Love, the universe our solitude, 
And, over all the rest, oblivion roll — 
Sense quenching Soul! — Ferishtah's Fancies. 

[17] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

February Third 

If you will only promise to treat me en bon 
camarade, without reference to the convention- 
alities of "ladies and gentlemen," taking no 
thought for your sentences (nor for mine), nor 
for your blots (nor for mine), nor for your 
blunt speaking (nor for mine), nor for your 
badd speling (nor for mine), and if you agree 
to send me blotted thought whenever you are 
in the mind for it, and with as little ceremony 
and less legibility than you would think it neces- 
sary to employ towards your printer — why, 
then, I am ready to sign and seal the contract, 
and to rejoice in being articled as your corre- 
spondent. Only don't let us have any constraint, 
any ceremony.— E. B. to R. B„ Feb. 3, 1845. 

February Fourth 

We shall start up, at last awake 
From Life, that insane dream we take 
For waking now, because it seems. 

Easter Day. 
February Fifth 

Books are men of higher stature, 
And the only men who speak aloud for future 
times to hear. 

Lady Geraldine's Courtship. 

[18] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y^. V?V >?* V?< jQk/$k X$k yjVT^ WJ$i. >?* V^C >J* Vf* w J$k 7^7^" 

February Sixth 

I felt a mother-want about the world, 

And still went seeking, like a bleating lamb 

Left out at night, in shutting up the fold, — 

As restless as a nest-deserted bird 

Grown chill through something being away, 

though what 
It knows not. — Aurora Leigh. 

February Seventh 

And thus I know this earth is not my sphere, 

For I cannot so narrow me, but that 

I still exceed it. — Pauline. 

February Eighth 

Youth is a pleasant burden to me; 

But age on my head, more heavily 

Than the crags of Etna, weighs and weighs, 

And darkening cloaks the lids and intercepts 

the rays. 
Never be mine the preference 
Of an Asian empire's wealth, nor yet 
Of a house all gold, to youth, to youth 
That's beauty, whatever the gods dispense! 
Whether in wealth we joy, or fret 
Paupers, — of all God's gifts most beautiful, 

in truth. — Herakles. 

[19] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>l*>^y^?^>4x y$Ky$K y^y^y^ y^. y^y^r^y^y^y^y^: 

February Ninth 

In man there's failure, only since he left 
The lower and unconscious forms of life. 
We called it an advance. — Cleon. 

February Tenth 

A woman's always younger than a man 
At equal years. — Aurora Leigh. 

February Eleventh 

If nobody likes writing to everybody, yet 
everybody likes writing to somebody. 

E. B. to R. B., Feb. 3, 1845. 

February Twelfth 

All that is, at all, 
Lasts ever, past recall: 
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand 
sure. — Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

February Thirteenth 

Truth that peeps 
Over the glass's edge when dinner's done, 
And body gets its sop, and holds its noise, 
And leaves the soul free a little. 

Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

[20] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

February Fourteenth 

Man I am and man would be, Love — merest man 
and nothing more. 

Bid me seem no other ! Eagles boast of pinions 
— let them soar! 

I may put forth angel's plumage, once un- 
manned, but not before. 

Now on earth, to stand suffices, — nay, if kneel- 
ing serves, to kneel: 

Here you front me, here I find the all of Heaven 
earth can feel: 

Sense looks straight, — not over, under, — per- 
fect sees beyond appeal. 

Good you are and wise, full circle : what to me 

were more outside? 
Wiser wisdom, better goodness? Ah, such want 

the angePs wide 
Sense to take and hold and keep them! Mine 

at least has never tried. 

Ferishtah's Fancies. 

February Fifteenth 

Though a wide compass round be fetched ; 
That what began best, can't end worst, 
Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst. 
Apparent Failure. 

[21] 



FROM DAY TO BAY 

>^: vp. vj* y|y v^v v^v yjv V4v?^7?sr?p"?^"??r>^>j< v?< ti^t^t 

February Sixteenth 

What youth deemed crystal, age finds out was 
dew. — Jochanan Hakkadosh. 

February Seventeenth 

The curious thing in this world is not the 
stupidity, but the upper-handism of the stu- 
pidity. The geese are in the Capitol, and the 
Romans in the farmyard — and it seems all quite 
natural that it should be so, both to geese and 
Romans, 

E. B. to R. B., Feb. 17, 1845. 

February Eighteenth 

Ask not one least word of praise! 

Words declare your eyes are bright? 
What then meant that summer day's 
Silence spent in one long gaze? 

Was my silence wrong or right? 

Words of praise were all to seek! 

Face of you and form of you, 
Did they find the praise so weak 
When my lips just touched your cheek — 

Touch which let my soul come through? 
Ferislitdtis Fancies. 

[22] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

February Nineteenth 

You, for example, clever to a fault, 
The rough and ready man, who write apace, 
Read somewhat seldomer, think perhaps even 
less. — Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

February Twentieth 
Say after me, and try to say 
My very words, as if each word 
Came from you of your own accord, 
In your own voice, in your own way: 
"This woman's heart and soul and brain 
Are mine as much as this gold chain 
She bids me wear; which" (say again) 
"I choose to make by cherishing 
A precious thing, or choose to fling 
Over the boat-side, ring by ring." 
And yet once more say . . . no word more! 
Since words are only words. Give o'er! 

In a Gondola. 

February Twenty-first 
Such man, she knew, being mere man ('twas all 

she knew), 
Must be made sure by beauty's silken bond, 
The weakness that subdues the strong, and bows 
Wisdom alike and folly. 

The Ring and the Bool:. 

[23] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

February Twenty-second 

For even prosaic men, who wear grief long, 
Will get to wear it as a hat aside 
With a feather stuck in 't. 

Aurora Leigh. 

February Twenty-third 

You groped your way across my room i' the 

drear dark dead of night; 
At each fresh step a stumble was : but, once 

your lamp alight, 
Easy and plain you walked again: so soon all 

wrong grew right ! 

What lay on floor to trip your foot? Each 
object, late awry, 

Looked fitly placed, nor proved offence to foot- 
ing free — for why? 

The lamp showed all, discordant late, grown 
simple symmetry. 

Be love your light and trust your guide, with 

these explore my heart ! 
No obstacle to trip you then, strike hands and 

souls apart ! 
Since rooms and hearts are furnished so, — light 

shows you, — needs love's start? 

Fcrishtah's Fancies. 

[24] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y^y^: y$< >$sr y?\ y^ y$K y^: y^ yp; >^ >^r >^ y$K y^ 7?^ 7$* 7?r 

February Twenty-fourth 

God will estimate success some day. 

Prince Hohenstiel-Schzvangau. 

February Twenty-fifth 

And so you found that poor room dull, 
Dark, hardly to your taste, my dear? 

Its features seemed unbeautif ul : 

But this I know — 'twas there, not here, 

You plighted troth to me, the word 

Which — ask that poor room how it heard. 

And this rich room obtains your praise 
Unqualified, — so bright, so fair, 

So all whereat perfection stays? 

Aye, but remember — here, not there, 

The other word was spoken ! — Ask 

This rich room how you dropped the mask ! 

Appearances. 

February Twenty-sixth 

Heaven will make strong 
The hand as the true heart. — Strafford. 

February Twenty-seventh 

When is a man strong, until he feels alone? 
Colombe's Birthday. 

[25] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

*Ik v$k >j< y^y^y^y^r^Ky^: >j»t >?v >^ y^ y^: y^. y^. ^-?K 

February Twenty-eighth 

Thou comest! all is said without a word. 

I sit beneath thy looks, as children do 

In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through 

Their happy eyelids from an unaverred 

Yet prodigal inward joy. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

February Twenty-ninth 

Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not 
More grief than ye can weep for. That is 

well- 
That is light grieving! lighter, none befell 
Since Adam forfeited the primal lot. 
Tears ! what are tears ? The babe weeps in its 
cot, 
The mother singing; at her marriage-bell 
The bride weeps, and before the oracle 
Of high-faned hills the poet has forgot 
Such moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for 
grace, 
Ye who weep only ! If, as some have done, 
Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place 
And touch but tombs, — look up! those tears 
will run 
Soon in long rivers down the lifted face, 
And leave the vision clear for stars and sun. 

Tears, 

[26] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

>^ vjvv^v yjv v*v vjv y*v vjv 7^ >i< >?< v^ v|v yi^y^n^y^y^ 



MARCH 

March First 

Oh, what a dawn of day ! 

How the March sun feels like May! 

All is blue again 

After last night's rain, 
And the South dries the hawthorn-spray, 

Only, my Love's away ! 
I'd as lief that the blue were gray. 

Runnels, which rillets swell, 
Must be dancing down the dell, 

With a foaming head 

On the beryl bed 
Paven smooth as hermit's cell ; 

Each with a tale to tell, 
Could my Love but attend as well. 

Dearest, three months ago! 

When we lived blocked up with snow, — 

When the wind would edge 

In and in his wedge, 
In, as far as the point could go — 

Not to our ingle, though, 
Where we loved each the other so! 

A Lover's Quarrel. 

[27] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

March Second 

The great mind knows the power of gentleness, 
Only tries force because persuasion fails. 

Prince Hohcnsticl-Schwangau. 

March Third 

Last night I saw you in my sleep : 

And how your charm of face was changed! 
I asked, "Some love, some faith you keep?" 

You answered, "Faith gone, love estranged." 

Whereat I woke — a twofold bliss: 

Waking was one, but next there came 

This other: "Though I felt, for this, 
My heart break, I loved on the same." 

Bad Dreams, I. 

March Fourth 

Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to 
clear, 
Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the 
weal and woe : 
But God has a few of us whom He whispers in 
the ear ; 
The rest, may reason and welcome: 'tis we 
musicians know. — Abt Vogler. 

[28] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

March Fifth 

We have hearts within, 
Warm, live, improvident, indecent hearts. 

Aurora Leigh. 

March Sixth 

Be sure they sleep not whom God needs ! Nor 

fear 
Their holding light His charge, when every 

hour 
That finds that charge delayed, is a new death. 

Paracelsus. 

March Seventh 

What does the world, told truth, but lie the 
more? 

The Ring and the Book, 

March Eighth 

Mere largeness in a life is something, sure — 
A great is better than a little aim. 

Colombe's Birthday. 

March Ninth 

Whoso loves believes the impossible. 

Aurora Leigh. 

[29] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
WJF.y$< y^ ?$< to*. }Qk y^y^y^r^y^y^ry^y^y^y^y^ 

March Tenth 

What stops my despair? 
This; — 'tis not what man Does which exalts 
him, but what man Would do! 

Saul. 

March Eleventh 

Through the Valley of Love I went, 

In its lovingest spot to abide, 

And just on the verge where I pitched my tent 

I found Hate dwelling beside. 

And further, I traversed Hate's grove, 

In its hatef ullest nook to dwell ; 

But lo, where I flung myself prone, couched 

Love 
Where the deepest shadows fell. 

Pippa Passes. 

March Twelfth 

But all the world's coarse thumb 
And finger failed to plumb, 
So passed in making up the main account; 
All instincts immature, 
All purposes unsure, 
That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the 
man's amount. 

Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

[30] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y*x >*x X4X x$* y*x x*x x*x y^ yj£ yfi v^ >^C vjv: >?* T^"??^ "?^"x$? 

March Thirteenth 
If thou must love me, let it be for naught 
Except for love's sake only. Do not say 
"I love her for her smile — her look — her way 
Of speaking gently, — for a trick of thought 
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought 
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day" — 
For these things in themselves, beloved, may 
Be changed, or change for thee, — and love, 
so wrought, 
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for 
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks 

dry — 

A creature might forget to weep, who bore 

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby ! 

But love me for love's sake, that evermore 

Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese, 

March Fourteenth 
I send my heart up to thee, all my heart 

In this my singing. 
For the stars help me, and the sea bears part ; 

The very night is clinging 
Closer to Venice' streets to leave one space 

Above me, whence thy face 
May light my joyous heart to thee its dwelling- 
place. — In a Gondola, 

[81] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

March Fifteenth 

Are there not, dear Michal, 
Two points in the adventure of the diver, 
One, — when, a beggar, he prepares to plunge? 
One, — when, a prince, he rises with his pearl? 

Paracelsus. 

March Sixteenth 

Two human loves make one divine. 

I sobeV s Child. 

March Seventeenth 

Nay but you, who do not love her, 
Is she not pure gold, my mistress? 

Holds earth aught — speak truth — above her? 
Aught like this tress, see, and this tress, 

And this last fairest tress of all, 

So fair, see, ere I let it fall? 

Because you spend your lives in praising; 

To praise, you search the wide world over; 
Then why not witness, calmly gazing, 

If earth holds aught — speak truth — above 
her ? 
Above this tress, and this, I touch 
But cannot praise, I love so much ! 

Song. 

[32] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

March Eighteenth 

If one could have that little face of hers 
Painted upon a background of pale gold, 
Such as the Tuscan's early art prefers! 
No shade encroaching on the matchless mold 
Of those two lips, which should be opening soft 
In the pure profile ; not as when she laughs, 
For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft 
Yon hyacinth, she loves so, leaned its staff's 
Burden of honey-colored buds to kiss 
And capture 'twixt the lips apart for this. 

A Face. 

March Nineteenth 

Every age 
Through being beheld too close, is ill discerned. 

Aurora Leigh. 

March Twentieth 

Thou dost well in rejecting the mere comforts 

that spring 
From the mere mortal life held in common by 

man and the brute: 
In our flesh grows the branch of this life, in 

our soul it bears fruit. 

Saul. 

[33] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

March Twenty-first 

That gift of his from God descended. 
Ah, friend, what gift of man's does not. 

Christmas Eve. 

March Twenty-second 

God Himself is the best Poet, 
And the Real is His song. 

The Dead Pan. 

March Twenty-third 

Since when was genius found respectable? 

Aurora Leigh. 

March Twenty-fourth 

Luitolfo was the proper 
Friend-making, everywhere friend-finding soul, 
Fit for the sunshine, so, it followed him. 
A happy-tempered bringer of the best 
Out of the worst. — A Soul's Tragedy. 

March Twenty-fifth 

We find great things are made of little things, 
And little things go lessening, till at last 
Comes God behind them. 

Mr. Sludge, "The Medium." 

[34] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

March Twenty-sixth 

All service ranks the same with God: 

If now, as formerly He trod 

Paradise, His presence fills 

Our earth, each only as God wills 

Can work — God's puppets, best and worst, 

Are we; there is no last nor first. 

Say not "a small event!" "Why small"? 
Costs it more pain that this, ye call 
A "great event," should come to pass 
Than that? Untwine me from the mass 
Of deeds which make up life, one deed 
Power shall fall short in or exceed! 

Pippa Passes. 

March Twenty-seventh 

Oppression makes the wise man mad. 

Luria. 

March Twenty-eighth 

Why, where's the need of Temple, when the walls 
O' the world are that? — Dramatis Persona. 

March Twenty-ninth 

When the prophet beats the ass, 
The angel intercedes. — Aurora Leigh. 

[35] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

?$^>y*r>^ yp: >j^ ypz tqz y^: y^: ypK y^y^y^: yp; t^k y^: y^y^: 

March Thirtieth 

Love-making, — how simple a matter! No 
depths to explore, 

No heights in a life to ascend! No dishearten- 
ing Before, 

No affrighting Hereafter, — love now will be 
love evermore. 

So I felt "To keep silence were folly:" — all 
language above, 

I made love. 

Fcrisht ah's Fancies. 

March Thirty-first 

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the 
bag of one bee : 
All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the 
heart of one gem: 
In the core of one pearl all the shade and the 
shine of the sea: 
Breath and bloom, shade and shine, wonder, 
wealth, and — how far above them! — 
Truth, that's brighter than gem, 
Trust, that's purer than pearl, — 
Brightest truth, purest trust in the unive: 
all were for me 

In the kiss of one girl. 

Sum mum Bonum. 

[36] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
>FT7FT^ v^ >?* W v?v >$*>?* y^ yp. yp. y^y^y^y^y^T^- 



APRIL 

April First 

Oh, to be in England 

Now that April's there, 

And whoever wakes in England 

Sees, some morning, unaware, 

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood 

sheaf 
Round the elm-tree boles are in tiny leaf, 
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough 
In England — now! 

Home-Thoughts, from Abroad. 

April Second 

In youth I looked to these very skies 

And, probing their immensities, 

I found God there, His visible power; 

Yet felt in my heart, amid all its sense 

Of the power, an equal evidence 

That His love, there too, was the nobler dower. 

For the loving worm within its clod 

Were diviner than a loveless god 

Amid his worlds, I will dare to say. 

Christmas Eve. 

[37] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

April Third 

The year's at the spring 
And day's at the morn ; 
Morning's at seven ; 
The hillside's dew-pearled; 
The lark's on the wing; 
The snail's on the thorn : 
God's in His Heaven — 
All's right with the world! 

Pippa Passes, 

April Fourth 

I act for, talk for, live for this world now, 
As this world calls for action, life and talk — 
No prejudice to what next world may prove. 
Bishop Blougram y s Apology. 

April Fifth 

Nothing worth keeping is ever lost in this 
world. — Pippa Passes. 

April Sixth 

I seek no copy now of life's first half: 
Leave here the pages with long musing curled, 
And write me new my future's epigraph, 
New angel mine, unhoped for in the world! 
Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[38] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

>?* yp< x^" x|v y$K y$K v$\ >$* y^y^K y$* >*x >^x x^x x^x x*x ^"xj? 

April Seventh 

Man's work is to labor and leaven — 
As best he may — earth here with Heaven ; 
'Tis work for work's sake that he's needing. 

Of Pacchiarotto. 

April Eighth 

The devil's most devilish when respectable. 

Aurora Leigh. 

April Ninth 

'Tis in the advance of individual minds 
That the slow crowd should ground their ex- 
pectation 
Eventually to follow; as the sea 
Waits ages in its bed till some one wave 
Out of the multitudinous mass, extends 
The empire of the whole. — Paracelsus. 

April Tenth 

The thing that seems 
Mere misery, under human schemes, 
Becomes, regarded by the light 
Of Love, as very near, or quite 
As good a gift as joy before. 

Christmas Eve. 

[39] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

yfK /$< xix X4> y^y^y^. y^T^'j^i. v^vvjv v?x >?v: t^t^t^t^ 

April Eleventh 

Look round, look up, and feel, a moment's 

space, 
That carpet-dusting, though a pretty trade, 
Is not the imperative labor after all. 

Aurora Leigh. 

April Twelfth 

Not on the vulgar mass 
Called "work," must sentence pass, 
Things done, that took the eye and had the 
price ; 
O'er which, from level stand, 
The low world laid its hand, 
Found straightway to its mind, could value in 
a trice. — Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

April Thirteenth 

There's a further good conceivable 
Beyond the utmost earth can realize. 

Prince Hohenstiel-Schzvangau. 

April Fourteenth 

Only the prism's obstruction shows aright 

The secret of a sunbeam, breaks its light 

Into the jewelled bow from blankest white; 

So may a glory from defect arise. 

Deaf and Dumb. 

[40] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

V3K V|v J4* y*v >|V 7$? >$< V{< ??7 >pc >pc >?* v^ Vf* v^v v;v 7?*^ 

April Fifteenth 

Earth is a wintry clod; 
But spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, 

passes 
Over its breast to awaken it; rare verdure 
Buds tenderly upon rough banks, between 
The withered tree-roots and the cracks of frost, 
Like a smile striving with a wrinkled face ; 
Above birds fly in merry flocks — the lark 
Soars up and up, shivering for very joy; 
Afar the ocean sleeps; white fishing gulls 
Flit where the strand is purple with its tribe 
Of nested limpets ; savage creatures seek 
Their loves in wood and plain ; and God renews 
His ancient rapture. 

Paracelsus. 

April Sixteenth 

Near all the birds 
Will sing at dawn — and yet we do not take 
The chaffering swallow for the holy lark. 

Aurora Leigh. 

April Seventeenth 

Saints, to do us good, must be in Heaven. 
The Ring and the Book. 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
>$< yj* yjv 79779779* J|5 JQ* ^v^vffv^^ ^-,^^r jp W 

April Eighteenth 

Here's the spring back or close, 
When the almond-blossom blows : 

We shall have the word 

In that minor third 
There is none but the cuckoo knows — 

Heaps of the guelder-rose! 
I must bear with it, I suppose. 

A Lover** Quarrel. 

Apeil Nineteenth 

Say again, what wo arc? 

The sprite of a star. 

I lure thee above whore the destinies bar 

My plumes their full play 

Till a ruddier ray 

Than my pale one announce there is withering 

away 
Some . . . Scatter the vision forever ! And now. 
As of old, I am I, thou art thou! 

In a Gondola. 

April Twentieth 

Of all the commerce done in the world, from 
Tyro to Carthago, the exchange o{ sympathy 
for gratitude is the most, princely thing. 
E. B. to li. B., Jan.' 11. IS 

[ ** ] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

April Twenty-first 

What girl but, having gathered flowers, 
Stripped the beds and spoilt the bowers, 
From the lapful light she carries 
Drops a careless bud? — nor tarries 
To refrain the waif and stray: 
"Store enough for home" — she'll say. 

So say I too: give your lover 
Heaps of loving — under, over, 
Whelm him — make the one the wealthy 1 
Am I all so poor who — stealthy 
Work it was ! — picked up what fell : 
Not the worst bud — who can tell? 

Humility. 

April Twenty-second 

Thought is the soul of act. 

Sordcllo. 

April Twenty-third 

Spring's first breath 
Blew soft from the moist hills — the blackthorn 

boughs. 
So dark in the bare woods, when glistening 
In the sunshine were white with coming buds, 
Like the bright side of a sorrow. 

Pauline. 

[48] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

April Twenty-fourth 

You never know what life means till you die: 
Even throughout life, 'tis death that makes life 

live, 
Give it whatever the significance. 

The Ring and the Book. 

April Twenty-fifth 

There shall never be one lost good ! What was, 

shall live as before; 
The evil is null, is naught, is silence implying 

sound ; 
What was good shall be good, with, for evil, so 

much good more ; 
On earth the broken arcs ; in heaven, a perfect 

round. — Abt Vogler. 

April Twenty-sixth 

Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows ! 

But not quite so sunk that moments, 
Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, 

When the spirit's true endowments 
Stand out plainly from its false ones, 

And apprise it if pursuing 
Or the right way or the wrong way, 

To its triumph or undoing. 

Christina. 

[44] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

W V** V|V V^ V|V W^y^y^T^y^ >J< >?* >|< V^TT?^^/^^ 

April Twenty-seventh 

The moth's kiss, first! 

Kiss me as if you made believe 

You were not sure, this eve, 
How my face, your flower, had pursed 

Its petals up ; so, here and there 

You brush it, till I grow aware 
Who wants me, and wide ope I burst. 

The bee's kiss, now ! 

Kiss me as if you entered gay 

My heart at some noonday, 
A bud that dares not disallow 

The claim, so all is rendered up, 

And passively its shattered cup 
Over your head to sleep I bow. 

In a Gondola. 

April Twenty-eighth 

Life treads on life, and heart on heart, 
We press too close, in church and mart, 
To keep a dream or grave apart. 

Vision of Poets. 

April Twenty-ninth 

One does see somewhat when one shuts one'j. 
eyes. — Mr. Sludge, "The Medium." 

[45] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

v^ W >^ >*v >jv y^y^: TfK^y^ >l< >^ '*$< '4* "^t^t^^ 

April Thirtieth 

All I can say is — I saw it! 

The room was as bare as your hand. 

I locked in the swarth little lady, — I swear, 

From the head to the foot of her — well, quite 
as bare! 

"No Nautch shall cheat me," said I, "taking 
my stand 

At this bolt which I draw!" And this bolt— 
I withdraw it, 

And there stands the lady, not bare, but em- 
bowered 

With — who knows what verdure, o'er fruited, 
o'erflowered? 

Impossible! Only — I saw it! 

All I can sing is — I feel it! 

This life was as blank as that room ; 

I let you pass in here. Precaution, indeed? 

Walls, ceiling, and floor, — not a chance for a 

weed ! 
Wide opens the entrance: where's cold now, 

where's gloom? 
No May to sow seed here, no June to reveal it, 
Behold you enshrined in these blooms of your 

bringing, 
These fruits of your bearing — nay, birds of 

your winging! 
A fairy tale ! Only — I feel it ! — Natural Magic, 

[46] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
MAY 

May First 

And after April, when May follows 

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swal- 
lows! 

Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the 
hedge 

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover 

Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's 
edge— 

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song 
twice over, 

Lest you should think he never could recapture 

The first fine careless rapture! 

And though the fields look rough with hoary 
dew, 

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew 

The buttercups, the little children's dower 

— Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! 
Home-Thoughts, from Abroad. 

May Second 

If you get simple beauty, and naught else, 
You get about the best thing God invents. 

Fra hippo Lippi. 

[47] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>J< v^c V|< v?v Vjv v*v y<x >*v y$K >>x >^ >$v >♦> y 4 x y*v y^x 7?*^ 

May Third 

People would hardly ever tell falsehoods 
about a matter, if they had been let tell truth 
in the beginning. 

R. B. to E. B., Feb. 11, 18^5. 

May Fourth 

Shutting out fear with all the strength of hope. 

. . . The sunrise 
Well warranted our faith in this full noon ! 

Paracelsus. 

May Fifth 

A living glory-bath 
Of air and light where seems to float and move 
The wooded watered country, hill and dale 
And steel-bright thread of stream, a-smoke with 

mist, 
A-sparlde with May morning, diamond drift 
O' the sun-touched dew. 

The Inn Alb inn. 

May Sixth 

The incoherences of change and death 

Are represented fully, mixed and merged, 

In the smooth fair mystery of perpetual Life. 



Aurora Leigh, 



[48] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

May Seventh 

'Tis a fine thing that one, weak as myself, 
Should sit in his lone room, knowing the words 
He utters in his solitude shall move 
Men like a swift wind — that though he be for- 
gotten. 
Fair eyes shall glisten when his beauteous 

dreams 
Of love, come true in happier frames than his. 

Pauline. 
May Eighth 

The god in babe's disguise. 

Heading a Book. 

May Ninth 

Women know 
The way to rear up children (to be just), 
They know a simple, merry, tender knack 
Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, 
And stringing pretty words that make no sense, 
And kissing full sense into empty words ; 
Which things are corals to cut life upon, 
Although such trifles. — Aurora Leigh. 

May Tenth 

I judge people by what they might be — not are, 
nor will be. — A Soul's Tragedy. 

[49] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

May Eleventh 

The proper process of unsinning sin 
Is to begin well doing. 

The Ring and the Book. 

May Twelfth 

God said, "A praise is in mine ear ; 
"There is no doubt in it, no fear: 

"So sing old worlds, and so 
"New worlds that from my footstool go." 
The Boy and the Angel. 

May Thirteenth 

It is well to fly towards the light, even where 
there may be some fluttering and bruising of 
wings against the windowpanes, is it not? 

E. B. to R. B., March 5, 1845. 

May Fourteenth 

Thou hast 
Life, then — wilt challenge life for us : Thy race 
Is vindicated so, obtains its place 
In Thy ascent, the first of us ; whom we 
May follow, to the meanest, finally, 
With our more bounded wills. — Sordello. 

[50] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

TO* v^c v$k w/p. v$k v$k y^y^y^: yp. w$k v?< y^y^y^ y^y^: 

May Fifteenth 

Such a starved bank of moss 

Till, that May morn, 
Blue ran the flash across : 

Violets were born! 

Sky — what a scowl of cloud 

Till, near and far, 
Ray on ray split the shroud: 

Splendid, a star! 

World — how it walled about 

Life with disgrace 
Till God's own smile came out: 

That was thy face! 

The Two Poets of Croisic. 

May Sixteenth 

As it was better, youth 
Should strive, through acts uncouth, 
Toward making, than repose on aught found 
made. 

Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

May Seventeenth 

Womanliness means only motherhood; 
All love begins and ends there. 

The Inn Album. 

[51] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

tqk ■/$< >?* >?y" v^c yp. tqk 'jQstyp >i* v*v y*v y^y^y^y^ y^y^r 

May Eighteenth 

The great beacon-light God sets in all, 
The conscience of each bosom. — Strafford. 

May Nineteenth 

You paint a portrait for a friend, 
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it 
Long after he has ceased to love you, just 
To hold together what he was and is. 

Aurora Leigh. 

May Twentieth 

"There is no God," the foolish saith, 
But none, "There is no sorrow" ; 

And nature oft the cry of faith 
In bitter need will borrow. 

Cry of the Human. 

May Twenty-first 

And thus looking within and around me, I ever 

renew 
(With that stoop of the soul which in bending 

upraises it too) 
The submission of Man's nothing-perfect to 

God's All-Complete ; 
As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to 

His feet! —Saul. 

[52] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

May Twenty-second 
Flower o' the broom, 
Take away love, and our earth is a tomb ! 

Flower o' the quince, 

I let Lisa go, and what good is life since? 

Flower o' the rose, 

If I've been merry, what matter who knows? 

Flower o' the clove, 

All the Latin I construe is "amo," I love ! 

Flower o' the pine, 

You keep your manners, and I'll stick to mine! 

Flower o' the peach, 

Death for us all, and his own life for each ! 

Fra Lippo Lippi. 

May Twenty-third 

The past is in its grave, 
Though its ghost haunts us. 

Pauline. 
May Twenty-fourth 

A man can have but one life, and one death, 
One heaven, one hell. 

In a Balcony. 
[53] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
y^y^y^K >^">jv >^ jqz jqs. jqs t^k v^: '*♦*: t$? ~«*v: ~«^ 7$z jqs, ^ 

May Twenty-fifth 

Had I no experience how a lip's mere tremble, 

Look's half hesitation, cheek's just change of 
color, 

These effect a heartquake, — how should I con- 
ceive 

What a heaven there may he? Let it but re- 
semble 

Earth myself have known ! No bliss that's 
finer, fuller. 

Only — bliss that lasts, they say, and fain would 
I believe. — Ferishtah's Fancies. 

May Twexty-sixth 
Praise is deeper than the lips. — HervS Rich 

May T\y knty-sevexth 

I have not chanted verse like Homer's, no — 
Nor swept string like Terpander, no — nor 

carved 
And painted men like Phidias and his friend: 
I am not great as they are, point by point: 
But I have entered into sympathy 
With these four, running these into one soul, 
Who, separate, ignored each other's arts. 
Say, is it nothing that I know them all? 

Clcon. 

[54] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

7^7^ --?* 7^ "jqs J&. -^ ^ JQS. -♦x 7fK 7Qk TFJQnqFTQZ 7Qk 7& 

Mat Twenty-eighth 

I dwell amid the city over. 
The groat humanity which beats 
Its life along the stony streets. 
Like a strong and unsunned river 
In a selfmade course, 
I sit and hearken while it rolls. 
Aery sad and very hoarse 
Certes is the flow of souls ; 
Infinitest tendencies 
By the finite pressed and pent, 
In the finite, turbulent : 
How we tremble in surprise 
When sometimes, with an awful sound, 
God's great plummet strikes the ground! 
The Soul's Traveling. 

May Twexty-xixth 

And what is our failure here but a triumph's 

evidence 
For the fulness of the davs? — Abt Vosrler. 

May Thirtieth 

Perfect strains may float 

'Neath master-hands, from instruments de- 
faced, — 

And great souls, at one stroke, may do ami 
doat. — Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[55] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

v?v y^y^y^f^r^y^y^y^y\\y^:y^: 

May Thirty-first 

Good, to forgive; 

Best, to forget! 

Living, we fret ; 
Dying, we live. 
Fretless and free, 

Soul, clap thy pinion ! 

Earth have dominion, 
Body, o'er thee! 

Wander at will, 

Day after day, — 

Wander away, 
Wandering still — 
Soul that canst soar ! 

Body may slumber : 

Body shall cumber 
Soul-flight no more. 

Waft of soul's wing! 

What lies above? 

Sunshine and Love, 
Skyblue and Spring! 
Body hides — where? 

Ferns of all feather, 

Mosses, and heather, 
Yours be the care ! 

La Saisiaz. 

[56] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

JUNE 

June First 

Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, 

(If our loves remain) 

In an English lane, 
By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies. 
Hark, those two in the hazel coppice — 
A boy and a girl, if the good fates please, 

Making love, say, — 

The happier they ! 
Draw yourself up from the light of the moon, 
And let them pass, as they will too soon, 

With the beanflowers' boon, 

And the blackbird's tune, 

And May, and June! 

"De Gustibus — " 

June Second 

It was roses, roses all the way. 

The Patriot. 

June Third 

You should not take a fellow eight years old 
And make him swear to never kiss the girls. 

Fra Lippo Lip pi 

[57] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>j*c yq< y^c vj*c vjv v**7^^??^7Fr^^7^?FC>?*: y^y^y^ 

June Fourth 

What's the best thing in the world? 
June-rose, by May-dew impearled; 
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain ; 
Truth, not cruel to a friend ; 
Pleasure, not in haste to end; 
Beauty, not self-decked and curled 
Till its pride is over-plain ; 
Light, that never makes you wink; 
Memory, that gives no pain ; 
Love, when, so, you're loved again. 
What's the best thing in the world? 
— Something out of it, I think. 

The Best Thing in the World. 

June Fifth 

Well for those who live through June! 
Great noontides, thunder-storms, all glaring 

pomps 
Which triumph at the heels of sovereign June, 
Leading his glorious revel through our world ! 

Pippa Passes. 

June Sixth 

Any nose 
May ravage with impunity a rose. 

Sordello. 

[58] 



W-ITH THE BROWNINGS 

June Seventh 

You'll love me yet! — and I can tarry 

Your love's protracted growing: 
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry, 

From seeds of April's sowing. 

I plant a heartf ul now : some seed 

At least is sure to strike, 
And yield — what you'll not pluck indeed, 

Not love, but, may be, like. 

You'll look at least on love's remains, 

A grave's one violet: 
Your look? — that pays a thousand pains. 

What's death? You'll love me yet! 

Pippa Passes. 

June Eighth 

God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures 
Boasts two soul-sides, — one to face the world 

with, 
One to show a woman when he loves her. 

One Word More. 

June Ninth 

O world as God has made it! All is beauty. 
The Guardian Angel. 

[59] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

June Tenth 

What hand and brain went ever paired? 
What heart alike conceived and dared? 
What act proved all its thought had been? 
What will but felt the fleshly screen? 

The Last Ride Together. 

June Eleventh 

"Yes!" I answered you last night; 

"No!" this morning, sir, I say: 
Colors seen by candlelight 

Will not look the same by day. 

The Lady's Yes. 

June Twelfth 

For thence, — a paradox 
Which comforts while it mocks, — 
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: 
What I aspired to be 
And was not, comforts me. 

Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

June Thirteenth 

Keep but ever looking, whether with the 
body's eye or the mind's, and you will soon find 
something to look on ! — Pip pa Passes. 

[60] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

June Fourteenth 

This flower she stopped at, finger on lip, 

Stooped over, in doubt, as settling its claim ; 
Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip, 

Its soft meandering Spanish name: 
What a name! Was it love or praise? 

Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? 
I must learn Spanish, one of these days, 

Only for that sweet name's sake. . . . 

Where I mid her not, beauties vanish; 

Whither I follow her, beauties flee; 
Is there no method to tell her in Spanish 

June's twice June since she breathed it with 
me? 
Come, bud, show me the least of her traces, 

Treasure my lady's lightest footfall! — 
Ah, you may flout and turn up your faces — 

Roses, you are not so fair after all! 

The Flower's Name. 

June Fifteenth 

There is no good of life but love — but love! 
What else looks good, is some shade flung from 

love — ■ 
Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by me. 

In a Balcony. 

[61] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

yfs:y^K y^ >*v v^v v^v y^y^y^y^ y^, y^ v^y^ yp. y$< y^y^K 

June Sixteenth 

No, when the fight begins within himself, 
A man's worth something. 

Bishop Blougram's Apology. 



June Seventeenth 

Though I be lost, 
I know which is the better, never fear, 
Of vice or virtue, purity or lust, 
Nature or trick — I see what I have done, 
Entirely now! . . . God's in His heaven! 

Pippa Passes. 

June Eighteenth 

I envy — how I envy him whose mind 
Turns with its energies to some one end! 

Pauline. 

June Nineteenth 

There is truth in falsehood, falsehood in truth. 

A Soul's Tragedy. 

June Twentieth 

Such was ever love's way ; to rise, it stoops. 
A Death in the Desert. 

[62] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

June Twenty-first 

Love you seek for, presupposes 
Summer heat and sunny glow. 

Tell me, do you find moss-roses 
Budding, blooming in the snow? 

Snow might kill the rose tree's root — 

Shake it quickly from your foot, 
Lest it harm you as you go. 

From the ivy where it dapples 
A gray ruin, stone by stone 

Do you look for grapes or apples, 
Or for sad green leaves alone? 

Pluck the leaves off, two or three — • 

Keep them for morality 

When you shall be safe and gone. 

Question and Answer, 

June Twenty-second 

Let a man contend to the uttermost 
For his life's set prize, be it what it will. 
The Statue and the Bust. 

June Twenty-third 

There's a real love of a lie, 
Liars find ready made for lies they make. 

Mr. Sludge, "The Medium: 9 

[63] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
>j^*j*-«j* vj* .^ v^: xjr ^ ?gs .^ -.^ ^ -,^ -.^ v^ ~.^ rjr »♦* 

Juke Twenty-fourth 

And hero am I the scoffer, who have probed 
Life's vanity, won by a word again 
Into my old life — for one little word 
Of this sweet friend, who lives in loving- me. 

FanHin'. 

June Twenty-fifth 

Fire is in the Hint: true, once a spark escapes. 
Fire forgets the kinship, soars till fancy shapes 
Some befitting cradle where the babe had 

birth— 
Wholly Heaven's the product, unallied to earth. 
Splendors recognized as perfect in the star! — 
In our flint their home was, housed as now they 

are. 

Fcrishtah's Fancies. 



June Twenty-sixth 

Is this apparent, when thou turn'st to muse 
Upon the scheme of earth, and man in chief. 
That admiration grows as knowledge grows? 
That imperfection means perfection bid, 
Reserved in part to grace the after-time? 

Ch-on. 



I 64] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

p?\ '-♦* J^ '•?* J|5 -^ -^ 7^5 J^ ~«^ v^ Hp ^ ^ ^ ~-+\ *;v ~*?c 

J r x e Twenty-seventh 

You love all. you say, 

Round, beneath, above me: 

Find me then some way 
Better than to love me, 

Me, too, dearest May! 

world-kissing eyes 

Which the blue heavens melt to ; 

1 sad, overwise. 

Loathe the sweet looks dealt to 
All things — men and flies. 

You love all, you say : 

Therefore, Dear, abate me 

Just 3'our love, I pray ! 

Shut your eyes and hate me — 

Only me — fair May ! 

May's Lore. 

June Twenty-eighth 

So we will go and think again, 
And all old loves shall come to us — but changed 
As some sweet thought which harsh words veiled 

before ; 
Feeling God loves us, and that all that errs. 
Is a strange dream which death will dissipate. 

Paulinr. 

[65] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

74* vp. V$< V|X y±x vjx V4V >|y 7j? >^ y^ x*x x*x y*x x+x ^ 7^7?^ 

June Twenty-ninth 
Of all the thoughts of God that are 
Borne inward into souls afar, 
Along the Psalmist's music deep, 
Now tell me if that any is, 
For gift or grace, surpassing this, — 
"He giveth His beloved sleep" ? — The Sleep 

June Thirtieth 
All June I bound the rose in sheaves. 
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves 
And strew them where Pauline must pass. 
She will not turn aside? Alas! 
Let them lie. Suppose they die? 
The chance was they might take her eye. 

How many a month I strove to suit 
These stubborn fingers to the lute! 
To-day I venture all I know. 
She will not hear my music ? So ! 
Break tRe string; fold music's wing: 
Suppose Pauline had bade me sing ! 

My whole life long I learned to love. 
This hour my utmost art I prove 
And speak my passion — heaven or hell? 
She will not give me heaven? 'Tis well! 
Lose who may — I still can say, 
Those who win heaven, blest are they ! 

One Way of Love. 

[66] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
w y^. y^y^y^y^wr^Ky^: yp- >i* y^ y^ wtftftftf 



JULY 

July First 

What was he doing, the great god Pan, 

Down in the reeds by the river? 
Spreading ruin and scattering ban, 
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, 
And breaking the golden lilies afloat 

With the dragon-fly on the river. 

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, 
From the deep cool bed of the river: 

The limpid water turbidly ran, 

And the broken lilies a-dying lay, 

And the dragon-fly had fled away, 
Ere he brought it out of the river. 

High on the shore sat the great god Pan 

While turbidly flowed the river ; 
And hacked and hewed as a great god can, 
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, 
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed 

To prove it fresh from the river. 

He cut it short, did the great god Pan ? 

(How tall it stood in the river !) 
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, 

[67] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>** x(k y^y^r^s: v^ v^c y^y^y^ypK v^c >?* y^y^y^y^y^ 

Steadily from the outside ring, 
And notched the poor dry empty thing 
In holes, as he sat by the river. 

"This is the way," laughed the great god Pan 

(Laughed while he sat by the river), 
"The only way, since gods began 
To make sweet music, they could succeed." 
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, 
He blew in power by the river. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan ! 

Piercing sweet by the river! 
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! 
The sun on the hill forgot to die, 
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly 

Came back to dream on the river. 

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, 

To laugh as he sits by the river, 
Making a poet out of a man : 
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, — 
For the reed which grows nevermore again 

As a reed with the reeds in the river. 

A Musical Instrument. 

July Second 
Youth means love ; 
Vows can't change nature. 

The Ring and the Book. 

[68] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y^y^y^y^i^y^sr^Ki^^K >jk y+v y^c y p . y ^ y^y^y^y^: 

July Thied 

A people is but the attempt of many 
To rise to the completer life of one ; 
And those who live as models for the mass 
Are singly of more value than they all. 

Luria. 
July Fourth 

But little do or can the best of us : 

That little is achieved through Liberty. 

Who, then, dares hold, emancipated thus, 
His fellow shall continue bound ? Not I, 

Who live, love, labor freely, nor discuss 

A brother's right to freedom. That is 
"Why." — Why lama Liberal. 

July Fifth 

Truth is within ourselves : it takes no rise 
From outward things, whate'er you may believe. 
There is an inmost center in us all, 
Where truth abides in fulness. 

Paracelsus. 
July Sixth 

Truth is the strong thing. Let man's life be 
true! 

In a Balcony. 

[69] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

July Seventh 

Man must pass from old to new, 
From vain to real, from mistake to fact, 
From what once seemed good, to what now 
proves best. — A Death hi the Desert. 

July Eighth 

Why waste a word, or let a tear escape, 
While other sorrows wait you in the world. 
Bala it 8 t ion's A dventure. 

July Ninth 

Would you have your songs endure? 
Build on the human heart. — Sordcllo. 

July Tenth 

I have not so far left the coasts of life 

To travel inland, that I cannot hear 

That murmur of the outer Infinite 

Which un weaned babes smile at in their sleep 

When wondered at for smiling. 

Aurora Leigh. 

July Eleventh 

Ever with the best desert goes diffidence. 
A Blot in the 'Scutcheon. 

[70] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

T^y^y^y^y^y^vfi. vjv y^y^ry^. y^y v^c >^ x^. x^x y+x "^ 

July Twelfth 

This is a spray the Bird clung to, 
Making it blossom with pleasure, 

Ere the high tree-top she sprung to, 
Fit for her nest and her treasure. 
Oh, what a hope beyond measure 

Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet 
hung to, — 

So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! 

This is a heart the Queen leant on, 

Thrilled in a minute erratic, 
Ere the true bosom she bent on, 
Meet for love's regal dalmatic. 
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic 
Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went 

on — - 
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on! 

Misconceptions. 

July Thirteenth 

O lyric Love, half angel and half bird, 
And all a wonder and a wild desire! 

The Ring and the Book. 

July Fourteenth 

Stark-naked truth is in request enough. 
"Transcendentalism. 19 

[71] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

W > ^ >?< viv 7^ y& >^ v+v y^ 7^: >^ w >y >?* y+* y+v nv tet 

July Fifteenth 

Needs must there be one way, our chief 
Best way of worship : let me strive 
To find it, and when found, contrive 
My fellows also take their share. 

Easter Day. 

July Sixteenth 

With truth and purity go other gifts! 
All gifts come clustering to that. 

The Return of the Druses. 

July Seventeenth 

Genius has somewhat of the infantine: 
But of the childish not a touch or taint. 
Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau. 

July Eighteenth 

Who keeps one end in view makes all things 
serve. 

In a Balcony. 

July Nineteenth 

Life is probation, and the earth no goal 
But starting point of man. 

The Ring and the Book. 

[72] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
iqk y?i. }QK7Qi WW y^r^Ky^: yj* y^: v$v v^c vjv v?v y$< 7^7?* 

July Twentieth 

There is no one beside thee and no one above 
thee, 
Thou standest alone as the nightingale sings ! 
And my words that would praise thee are im- 
potent things, 
For none could express thee though all should 

approve thee. 
I love thee so, dear, that I only can love thee. 

Say, what can I do for thee? weary thee, grieve 

thee? 

Lean on thy shoulder, new burdens to add? 

Weep my tears over thee, making thee sad? 

Oh, hold me not — love me not! let me retrieve 

thee. 
I love thee, so, dear, that I only can leave thee. 

Insufficiency. 

July Twenty-first 

There's many a crown for who can reach. 
The Last Ride Together. 

July Twenty-second 

Other heights in other lives, God willing: 
All the gifts from all the heights, your own, 
love! — One Word More. 

[73] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>j< >j< >?v yfv /4V v|v V|V yjv iqz y*x yf* y*x ^r^ x^c y^x y$* *$< 

July Twenty-third 

Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of 
things. 

Abt Vogler. 

July Twenty-fourth 

Inscribe all human effort with one word, 

Artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete! 

The Ring and the Book. 

July Twenty-fifth 

Never cheat yourself one instant. Love, 
Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest. 

In a Balcony. 

July Twenty-sixth 

The thing I pity most 
In man is — action prompted by surprise 
Of anger. 

A Forgiveness. 

July Twenty-seventh 

This world's no blot for us, 
Nor blank — it means intensely, and means good : 
To find its meaning is my meat and drink. 

Fra Lippo Lippi. 

[74] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

yj* yj* yj* yj* y*v vfofofo^^yfofof* y^v y*v y;v y*v 7^.' 

July Twenty-eighth 

A simple ring with a single stone, 

To the vulgar no stone of price : 
Whisper the right word, that alone — 

Forth starts a sprite, like fire from ice, 
And lo, you are lord (says an Eastern scroll) 
Of Heaven and earth, lord whole and sole 

Through the power in a pearl. 

A woman ('tis I this time that say) 

With little the world counts worthy praise: 

Utters the true word — out and away 

Escapes her soul: I am wrapped in blaze, 

Creation's lord, of Heaven and earth 

Lord whole and sole — by a minute's birth — 
Through the love in a girl. 

A Pearl, a Girl. 

July Twenty-ninth 

'Tis the taught already that profits by teach- 
ing. — Christmas Eve. 

July Thirtieth 

I will pass by and see their happiness, 

And envy none — being just as great, no doubt, 

Useful to men, and dear to God, as they ! 

Pippa Passes. 

[75] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
7Q*. v?v W*. W V|V VJ* Vf* >|V "?|? >?v >$* 7^r7?^y*x Jfp >^ "^"?K 

July Thirty-first 

Sweet, thou hast trod on a heart. 

Pass; there's a world full of men; 
And women as fair as thou art 
' Must do such things now and then. 

Thou hast only stepped unaware, — 

Malice, not one can impute; 
And why should a heart have been there 

In the way of a fair woman's foot? 

It was not a stone that could trip, 
Nor was it a thorn that could rend: 

Put up thy proud under-lip ! 

'Twas merely the heart of a friend. 

And yet peradventure one day 

Thou, sitting alone at the glass, 
Remarking the look gone away, 

Where the smile in its dimplement was. 

And seeking around thee in vain 

From hundreds who flattered before, 

Such a word as "Oh, not in the main 

Do I hold thee less precious, but more!" . . . 

Thou'lt sigh, very like, on thy part, 
"Of all I have known or could know, 

I wish I had only that Heart 

I trod upon ages ago !" — A False Step, 

[76] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
w v& w yQiTFW'Q* W y^ v^ w wwW'Q* y^y^yfK 

AUGUST 

August First 

Wanting is — what? 

Summer redundant, 

Blueness abundant, 

— Where is the blot ? 
Beamy the world, yet a blank all the same, 
— Framework which waits for a picture to 

frame : 
What of the leafage, what of the flower? 
Roses embowering with naught they embower! 
Come then, complete incompletion, O comer, 
Pant through the blueness, perfect the summer ! 

Breathe but one breath 

Rose-beauty above, 

And all that was death 

Grows life, grows love, 

Grows love. — Wanting is — What? 

August Second 

Earth's crammed with heaven, 
And every common bush afire with God ; 
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes ; 
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries, 
And daub their natural faces unaware 
More and more from the first similitude. 

Aurora Leigh, 

[77] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

W< y^. v^k vfK y$i. v^: v?v v^y^: •/^•/^i.y^.y^.y^y^.y^. t^t^c 

August Third 

It was not strange I saw no good in man, 
In my own heart love had not been made wise 
To trace love's faint beginnings in mankind, 
To know even hate is but a mask of love's, 
jTo see a good in evil, and a hope 
In ill-success. 

Paracelsus. 
August Fourth 

And because my heart I proffered, 
With true love trembling at the brim, 
He suffers me to follow him. 

Christmas Eve. 

August Fifth 

But a bird's weight can break the infant tree 
Which after holds an aery in its arms. 

Luria. 
August Sixth 

I feel, sweet friend, 
As one breathing his weakness to the ear 
Of pitying angel — dear as a winter flower ; 
A slight flower growing all alone, and offering 
Its frail cup of three leaves to the cold sun, 
Yet joyous and confiding, like the triumph 
Of a child. — Pauline. 

[78] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

August Seventh 

Out of your whole life give but a moment ! 
All of your life that has gone before, 
All to come after it, — so you ignore, 
So you make perfect the present, — condense, 
In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endow- 
ment, 
Thought and feeling and soul and sense — 
Merged in a moment which gives me at last 
You around me for once, you beneath me, above 

me — 
Me — sure that despite of time future, time 

past, — 
This tick of our lifetime's one moment you love 

me! 
How long such suspension may linger? Ah, 

Sweet — 
The moment's eternal — just that and no more — 
When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core 
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and 
lips meet! — — Now. 

August Eighth 

He looked at her, as a lover can ; 
She looked at him, as one who awakes, — 
The past was a sleep, and her life began. 
The Statue and the Bust, 

[79] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>^x x*x xjx yf< -JF x|x xjx y^y^ V|V V|V y|V V|V >jy vjv V^ 7^"?^ 

August Ninth 

How good is man's life here, mere living! 

How fit to employ 
The heart and the soul and the senses 

Foreevr in j oy ! — Saul. 

August Tenth 

All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good 

shall exist ; 
Not its semblance, but itself ; no beauty, nor 

good, nor power 
Whose voice has gone forth but each survives 

for the melodist 
When eternity affirms the conceptions of an 

hour. 
The high that proved too high, the heroic for 

earth too hard, 
The passion that left the ground to lose itself 

in the sky, 
Are music sent up to God by the lover and the 

bard; 
Enough that He heard it once : we shall hear it 

by-and-by. — Abt Vogler. 

August Eleventh 

'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls, 
And matter enough to save one's own. 

A Light Woman. 

[80] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

August Twelfth 

Some people always sigh in thanking God. 

Aurora Leigh. 

August Thirteenth 

O, world, as God has made it! all its beauty: 
And knowing this, is love, and love is duty. 
What further may be sought for or declared? 
The Guardian Angel. 

August Fourteenth 

I knew you once: but in Paradise, 

If we meet, I will pass nor turn my face. 

The Worst of It. 

August Fifteenth 

How sad and bad and mad it was — 
But then, how it was sweet ! 

Confessions. 

August Sixteenth 

Some think Creation's meant to show Him forth : 
I say, it's meant to hide Him all it can, 
And that's what all the blessed Evil's for. 

Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

[81] 



FROM DAY TO D AY 

-.;v JQ; *.^ .^ -Jy %?y -Jx -^ -^ "«?x "«♦< •♦< MS "■♦X "^x vj< .^ '.^ 
A r G v BT S v v E NT1 BNTH 

All women Love great men 

If young or old; it is in all the talcs. 

In a Balcony. 

A r G 1ST 1 \ [OH r E B nth 

But what it' 1 fail oi' niv purpose here? 

It is but to keep the nerves at strain. 

To dry one's eves ami laugh at a fall. 
Ami baffled, get up to begin again, — 

So the chase takes up one's life, that's all. 

Life in a Love. 

August Nineteenth 

Be sure that God 
Ne'er dooms to waste the strength He deigns 
impart. 

Paracelsus. 

Ar G ST TNw BNTTETH 

I see! 
You would grow smoothly as a tree. 
Soar heavenward, straight lv up like tire — 
God bless you — there's your work! entire! 

Easter-Day. 

I 88 J 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

'.J*^ .^ -^ -^ -^ .^ v^: '.^ .^ .Jx jjp .;v '.^ -.^y 5^5 v^x '.Jx 

Au G U ST T W E X T Y - V 1 U s T 

You've soon the world — 
The beauty and the wonder and the power, 
The shapes of things, their colors, lights and 

shades. 
Changes, surprises, — And God made it all! 

Fra l.'ippo Lip pi. 

August Twexty-secoxd 

If this be all— 

And other life await us not — for one, 
I say 'tis a poor cheat, a stupid bungle, 
A wretched failure. 1, for one. protest 
Against it, and 1 hurl it back with seorn. 

Paracelsus. 

August Twenty-third 

Love's undoing 
Taught me the worth of love in man's estate. 
And what proportion love should hold with 

power 
In his right constitution; love preceding 
Tower, and with much power, always much more 

love ; 
Love still too straitened in his present means. 
And earnest for new power to set love free. 

Paracelsus* 

[83] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

August Twenty-fourth 

So in man's self arise 
August anticipations, symbols, types 
Of a dim splendor ever on before 
In that eternal circle life pursues. 

Paracelsus. 

August Twenty-fifth 

We had among us, not so much a spy, 

As a recording chief -inquisitor, 

The town's true master, if the town but knew ! 

We merely kept a governor for form. 

How it Strikes a Contemporary. 

August Twenty-sixth 

Do I find love so full in my nature, God's ulti- 
mate gift, 

That I doubt His own love can compete with it? 
here the parts shift? 

Here the creatures surpass the Creator, the 
end what Began? — Saul. 

August Twenty-seventh 

Does he paint? he fain would write a poem, — 
Does he write? he fain would paint a picture. 

One Word More. 

[84] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y$K Vf«C Vfi jQi. >^C V^C w /$k y^Tf^T^V^ >$* v^t^v?* v^t^t^* 

August Twenty-eighth 

To-day's brief passion limits their range, 

It seethes with the morrow for us and more. 
They are perfect — how else? they shall never 
change : 
We are faulty — why not? we have time in 
store. 
The Artificer's hand is not arrested 

With us — we are rough-hewn, no-wise 
polished : 
They stand for our copy, and, once invested 
With all they can teach, we shall see them 
abolished. 
'Tis a life-long toil till our lump be leaven — 
The better! what's come to perfection 
perishes. 
Things learned on earth, we shall practice in 
heaven. 
Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes. 
Old Pictures in Florence, 



August Twenty-ninth 

My reason, blind myself to light, say truth 
Is false, and lie to God and my own soul? 
Contempt for all of this ! 

A Blot in the 'Scutcheon. 



[85] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

y^yfm^y^. v^v y^ v*v vjvtf: v?v v?< v*v v?< vpc xix x*x t^t?\ 

August Thirtieth 

Earth fades, Heaven dawns on me. I shall 

awake next 
Before God's throne: the moment's close at 

hand 
When man the first, last time, has leave to lay 
His whole heart bare before his Maker — leave 
To clear up the long error of a life 
And choose one happiness for evermore. 

Strafford. 

August Thirty-first 

"So say the foolish !" Say the foolish so, Love? 
"Flower she is, my rose" — or else, "My very 
swan is she" — 
Or perhaps, "Yon maid-moon, blessing earth 
below, Love, 
That art Thou!" — to them, belike: no such 
vain words from me. 

"Hush, rose, blush ! no balm like breath," I chide 
it: 
"Bend thy neck its best, swan, — hers the 
whiter curve!" 
Be the moon the moon : my Love I place beside 
it: 
What is she? Her human self, — no lower 
word will serve. — Poetics. 

[86] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 



SEPTEMBER 

September First 

The gray sea and the long black land ; 
And the yellow half -moon large and low; 
And the startled little waves that leap 
In fiery ringlets from their sleep, 
As I gain the cove with pushing prow, 
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand. 

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; 
Three fields to cross till a farm appears ; 
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch 
And blue spurt of a lighted match, 
And a voice less loud, through its joys and 
fears, 
Than the two hearts beating each to each! 

Meeting at Night, 

September Second 

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, 
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim: 
And straight was a path of gold for him, 

And the need of a world of men for me. 

Parting at Morning. 

[87] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

September Third 

My own hope is, a sun will pierce 

The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; 
That, after Last, returns the First. 

Apparent Failure. 

September Fourth 

Young men, aye, and maids 
Too often sow their wild oats in tame verse. 

Aurora Leigh. 

September Fifth 

Life's inadequate to joy, 
As the soul sees joy. . . . 
And so a man can use but a man's joy 
While he sees God's. 

Cleon. 

September Sixth 

You're my friend — 

What a thing friendship is, world without end! 
The Flight of the Duchess. 

September Seventh 

Who knows most, doubts not ; entertaining hope 
Means recognizing fear. 

Two Poets of Croisic, 

[88] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
yyiWjQi w w TO* ft* wjos w v& y^y^ viv •/$< >^ 7^7^ 

September Eighth 

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed 
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; 
And ever since, it grew more clean and white, 
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, 
list," 
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst 
I could not wear there, plainer to my sight, 
Than that first kiss. The second passed in 

height 
The first, and sought the forehead, and half 
missed, 
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed! 
That was the chrism of love, which love's own 

crown, 
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. 
The third upon my lips was folded down, 

In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed, 
I have been proud and said, "My love, my 
own." — Sonnets from the Portuguese, 

September Ninth 

Be Hate that fruit, or Love that fruit, 
It forwards the general Deed of Man, 

And each of the Many helps to recruit 
The life of the race by a general plan, 

Each living his own, to boot. — By the Fireside. 

[89] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

September Tenth 

Man seeks his own good at the whole world's 
cost. — Luria. 

September Eleventh 

Ignorance is not innocence, but sin. 

The Inn Album. 

September Twelfth 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 
I love thee to the depth and breadth and 

height 
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. 
I love thee to the level of everyday's 

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; 
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. 
I love thee with the passion put to use 

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's 

faith. 
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the 
breath, 
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God 

choose, 
I shall but love thee better after death. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[90] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

VI* >i* >|V >;v >|y >?<^^^Hvyj<>j<y{< v^^^t^t^t 

September Thirteenth 

Where Is the use of the lip's red charm, 
The heaven of hair, the pride of the brow, 
And the blood that blues the inside arm — 

Unless we turn, as the soul knows how, 
The earthly gift to an end divine? 
A lady of clay is as good, I trow. 

The Statue and the Bust, 

September Fourteenth 

Till, from its summit, 
Judgment drops its damning plummet, 
Pronouncing such a fatal space 
Departed from the founder's base. 

Christmas Eve, 

September Fifteenth 

I say, that as the babe, you feed awhile, 
Becomes a boy and fit to feed himself, 
So, minds at first must be spoon-fed with truth : 
When they can eat, babe's-nurture is with- 
drawn. 
I say, that miracle was duly wrought 
When, save for it, no faith were possible. 

A Death in the Desert. 

[91] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

y & v^c v;v y+v y^K >y yft viv ^Tyr??^*"^ ^ x+x *ix >^->yr 

September Sixteenth 

Never fear but there's provision 
Of the Devil's to quench knowledge 
Lest we walk the earth in rapture! 
Making those who catch God's secret 
Just so much more prize their capture. 

Christina. 

September Seventeenth 

I knew, I felt what God is, what we are, 
What life is — how God tastes an infinite joy 
In infinite ways — one everlasting bliss, 
From whom all being emanates, all power 
Proceeds; in whom is life for evermore, 
Yet whom existence in its lowest form 
Includes. — Paracelsus. 

September Eighteenth 

Why with old truth needs new truth disagree? 
Red Cotton Nightcap Country. 

September Nineteenth 

And still, as love's brief morning wore, 
With a gentle start, half smile, half sigh, 
They found love not as it seemed before. 
The Statue and the Bust. 

[92] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

>yig yfr v^ y ^v >; v >|v >| x /^y^y^y^y^y^ >^ x+x y+x t^t^ 

September Twentieth 

Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make, 
Of all that strong divineness which I know 
For thine and thee, an image only so 
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break. 

It is that distant years which did not take 
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow, 
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo 
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake 

Thy purity of likeness and distort 

Thy worthiest love to a worthless counter- 
feit: 
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port, 

His guardian sea-god to commemorate, 

Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort 
And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate. 
Sonnets from the Portuguese, 



September Twenty-first 

Yet, what we call this life of men on earth, 
This sequence of the soul's achievements here, 
Being, as I find much reason to conceive, 
Intended to be viewed eventually 
As a great whole, not analyzed to parts, 
But each part having reference to all. 

Cleon. 



,[93] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

xf* x^j^x^^ xix xiv y(< 'm^tsk y;v y;* vjv yj* v^ v^: y^y^ 

September Twenty-second 

If I stoop 
Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, 
It is but for a time ; I press God's lamp 
Close to my breast; its splendor, soon or late, 
Will pierce the gloom : I shall emerge one day. 

Paracelsus. 

September Twenty-third 

Enough now, if the Right 
And Good and Infinite 
Be named here, as thou callest thy hand thine 
own, 

With knowledge absolute, 
Subject to no dispute 
From fools that crowded youth, nor let thee 
alone. 

Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

September Twenty-fourth 

Autumn has come — like Spring returned to us, 
Won from her girlishness — like one returned 
A friend that was a lover — nor forgets 
The first warm love, but full of sober thoughts 
Of fading years ; whose soft mouth quivers yet 
With the old smile — but yet so changed and 
still, — Pauline. 

[94] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
JQrfGTPFTQCPfCPF. xjx >*x >^ V^k VSk Vf*. >J< vp. >JV Vf»C ^-^ 

September Twenty-fifth 

Days decrease 
And autumn grows, autumn in everything. 
Eh? the whole seems to fall into a shape 
As if I saw alike my work and self 
And all that I was born to be and do, 
A twilight-piece. — Andrea del Sarto. 

September Twenty-sixth 

Do your best, whether winning or losing it, 
If you choose to play — is my principle! 

The Statue and the Bust. 

September Twenty-seventh 

You must not pump spring-water unawares 
Upon a gracious public full of nerves. 

Aurora Leigh. 

September Twenty-eighth 

What is left for us, save, in growth, 
Of soul, to rise up, far past both, 
From the gift looking to the Giver, 
And from the cistern to the River, 
And from the finite to Infinity, 
And from man's dust to God's divinity? 

Christmas Eve. 

[95] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

j^x xix>fx" y*x yf* yjx x*x x*x xjx x*x x^x x*x xix y^x x^Tj^/^'xK 

September Twenty-ninth 

And what procures a man the right to speak 
In his defence before his fellow-man, 
But — I suppose — the thought that presently 
He may have leave to speak before his God 
His whole defence? 

A Blot in the 'Scutcheon. 

September Thirtieth 

That way 
Over the mountain, which who stands upon 
Is apt to doubt if it's indeed a road ; 
While if he views it from the waste itself, 
Up goes the line there, plain from base to brow, 
Not vague mistakeable! what's a break or two 
Seen from the unbroken desert either side? 
What if the breaks themselves should prove at 

last 
The most consummate of contrivances 
To train a man's eye, teach him what is faith — 
And so we stumble at truth's very test? 
What have we gained then by our unbelief 
But a life of doubt diversified by faith, 
For one of faith diversified by doubt? 
We called the chess-board white — we call it 

black. 

Bishop Blougram's 'Apology. 

[96] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 



OCTOBER 

October First 

Ah, Love, but a day 

And the world has changed ! 
The sun's away, 

And the bird estranged ; 
The wind has dropped, 

And the sky's deranged: 
Summer has stopped. 

Look in my eyes ! 

Wilt thou change too? 
Should I find surprise? 

Shall I find aught new 
In the old and dear, 

In the good and true, 
With the changing year? 

Thou art a man, 

But I am thy love. 
For the lake, its swan; 

For the dell, its dove; 
And for thee — (oh, haste!) 

Me, to bend above, 
Me, to hold embraced. 

James Lee's Wife, 

[97] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>l< >j*c v^c vjv wpi. >4v >4* viv 4* >;x Tj^r^^r^ >?* >s* x*< t^t^ 

October Second 

Oh, Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee, 
A mite of my twelve hours' treasure, 
The least of thy gazes and glances, 
One of thy choices, or one of thy chances, 
Then shame fall on Asolo, mischief on me! 

Pippa Passes, 

October Third 

You know how love is incompatible 
With falsehood — purifies, assimilates 
All other passions to itself. 

Colombe's Birthday, 

October Fourth 

Let a man contend to the uttermost 
For his life's set prize, be what it will ! 

The Statue and the Bust, 

October Fifth 

To have reared a towering scheme 
Of happiness, and to behold it razed, 
Were nothing : all men hope, and see their hopes 
Frustrate, and grieve awhile, and hope anew. 
A Blot in the 'Scutcheon. 

[98] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

October Sixth 

Here's the top-peak ! the multitude below- 
Live, for they can there. 

This man decided not to Live but Know — 
Bury this man there? 

Here — here's his place, where meteors shoot, 
clouds form, 

Lightnings are loosened, 

Stars come and go! let joy break with the 
storm — ■ 

Peace let the dew send ! 

Lofty designs must close in like effects: 
Loftily lying, 

Leave him — still loftier than the world suspects, 
Living and dying. 

A Grammarian's Funeral, 

October Seventh 

Sweet the help of one we have helped. 

Aurora Leigh. 

October Eighth 

You call for faith; 
I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. 
The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, 
If faith o'ercomes doubt. 

Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

[99] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

October Ninth 

Yet I hardly know. When a soul has seen 

By the means of Evil that Good is best, 
And through earth and its noise, what is 
Heaven's serene, — 
When its faith in the same hath stood the 
test — • 
W T hy, the child grown man, you burn the rod, 
The uses of labor are surely done. 

Old Pictures in Florence. 

October Tenth 

And, as I saw the sin and death, even so 
See I the need and transiency of both, 
The good and glory consummated thence. 
I saw the power; I see the Love, once weak, 
Resume the Power. 

A Death in the Desert. 

October Eleventh 

Think, when our one soul understands 

The great Word which makes all things 
new — ■ 
When earth breaks up and Heaven expands — 

How will the change strike me and you 
In the House not made with hands? 

By the Fireside. 

[100] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
>j< y^ v;v w$k >iv v$< v;v yjv w>^ w W W W W >?< ^TF*: 

October Twelfth 

And therefore if to love can be desert, 
I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale 
As these you see, and trembling knees that 

fail 
To bear the burden of a heavy heart, — 

This weary minstrel-life that once was girt 
To* climb Aornus, and can scarce avail 
To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale 
A melancholy music, — why advert 

To these things? O Beloved, it is plain 
I am not of thy worth nor for thy place ! 
And yet, because I love thee, I obtain 

From that same love this vindicating grace, 
To live on still in love, and yet in vain, — 
To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face. 
Sonnets from the Portuguese, 

October Thirteenth 

Now may the good God pardon all good men! 

Aurora Leigh. 

October Fourteenth 

Folded his two hands and let them talk, 
Watching the flies that buzzed. And yet no 
fool. 

An Epistle. 

[101] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

TQrfGCSQZW ViV VJ* V|V V4V V^T 'Mf*. >$* y|X y*x 7J^ Yf* X(k 7^" 7?^ 

October Fifteenth 

Light thwarted, breaks 
A limpid purity to rainbow flakes, 
Or Shadow, helped, freezes to gloom. 

Sordello. 
October Sixteenth 

Avaunt 
Falsehood! Thou shalt not keep thy hold on 

me! 
Nor even get a hold on me ! 

The Return of the Druses. 

October Seventeenth 

If I live yet, it is for good, more love 
Through me to men : . . . 
Such ever was love's way : to rise, it stoops. 
A Death in the Desert. 

October Eighteenth 

The learned eye is still the loving one. 

Red Cotton Nightcap Country. 

October Nineteenth 

Faultless to a fault. 

The Ring and the Book. 

[102] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y$* vjvv^ v^c viv vjv v^c >n? vjv >|< v?v v?< v^c y^y^y^y^y^ 

October Twentieth 

There's a fancy some lean to and others hate — 

That, when this life is ended, begins 
New work for the soul in another state, 

Where it strives and gets weary, loses and 
wins — ■ 
Where the strong and the weak, this world's 
congeries, 
Repeat in large what they practiced in small, 
Through life after life in unlimited series ; 
Only the scale's to be changed, that's all. 
Old Pictures in Florence. 

October Twenty-first 

Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the in- 
effable Name? 
Builder and maker, thou, of houses not made 
with hands ! 

Abt Vogler. 

October Twenty-second 

And men have oft grown old among their books 
To die case-hardened in their ignorance, 
Whose careless youth had promised what long 

years 
Of unremitted labor ne'er performed. 

Paracelsus. 

[103] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

}Qk W VfK "A* >4* yfr V*\ V|* >4V >|v V*V V|* Vjx V|x V4V /4x >!*?K 

October Twenty-third 

Men could not part us with their worldly jars, 
Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend ; 
Our hands would touch for all the mountain- 
bars: 
And, heaven being rolled between us at the end, 
We should but vow the faster for the stars. 
Sonnets from the Portuguese. 



October Twenty-eourth 

Before the point was mooted "What is God?" 
No savage man inquired "What am myself?" 
Much less replied, "First, last, and best of 
things." 

A Death in the Desert. 



October Twenty-fifth 

Chance cannot change my love, nor time impair. 
Any Wife to Any Husband. 



October Twenty-sixth 

A Man ! — a right true man, however, 
Whose work was worthy a man's endeavor. 

Christmas Eve. 



[104] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

October Twenty-seventh 

In this world, who can do a thing, will not — 
And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: 
Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the 

power — ■ 
And thus we half -men struggle. At the end, 
God, I conclude, compensates, punishes. 

Andrea del Sarto. 

October Twenty-eighth 

What matter though I doubt at every pore, 
Head-doubts, heart-doubts, doubts at fingers' 

ends, 
Doubts in the trivial work of every day, 
Doubts at the very bases of my soul 
In the grand moments when she probes herself — 
If finally I have a life to show? 

Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

October Twenty-ninth 

For I intend to get to God, 
For 'tis to God I speed so fast, 
For in God's breast, my own abode, 
Those shoals of dazzling glory past, 
I lay my spirit down at last. 

Johannes Agricola in Meditation. 

[105] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

W WWW w w w w w w w ww w w w W7?? 

October Thirtieth 

Oh, the little more, and how much it is ! 

And the little less, and what worlds away! 
How a sound shall quicken content to bliss, 

Or a breath suspend the blood's best play, 
An life be a proof of this ! — By the Fireside, 

October Thirty-first 

Oh, wilt thou have my hand, dear, to He along 

in thine? 
As a little stone in a running stream, it seems 

to lie and pine. 
Now drop the poor pale hand, dear, unfit to 

plight with thine. 

Oh, wilt thou have my cheek, dear, drawn closer 

to thine own? 
My cheek is white, my cheek is worn, by many 

a tear run down. 
Now leave a little space, dear, lest it should 

wet thine own. 

Oh, must thou have my soul, dear, commingled 

with thy soul? — 
Red grows the cheek, and warm the hand; the 

part is in the whole : 
Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate, when soul 

is joined to soul. — Inclusions, 

[106] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

NOVEMBER 

November First 

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, 
This autumn morning! How he sets his 
bones 
To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and 

feet 
For the ripple to run over in its mirth ; 

Listening the while, where on the heap of 
stones 
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet. 

That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true ; 
Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and 
knows. 
If you loved only what were worth your love, 
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you: 
Make the low nature better by your throes ! 
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above ! 

Among the Rocks. 

November Second 

Our best is bad, nor bears Thy test; 
Still, it should be our very best. 

Christmas Eve, 

[ 107 ]. 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
vp. v?< W w y^v vjv v;v y®i.WjQ* '^ >l< >l< >?< v?< >?< "^"^ 

November Third 

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand 
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore 
Alone upon the threshold of my door 
Of individual life, I shall command 
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand 
Serenely in the sunshine as before. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

November Fourth 

I would have but one 
Delight on earth, so it were wholly mine; 
One rapture all my soul could fill. 

Pauline. 

November Fifth 

My business is not to remake myself, 
But make the absolute best of what God made. 
Bishop Blougram's Apology. 

November Sixth 

So you saw yourself as you wished you were, 
As you might have been, as you cannot be; 

And bringing your own shortcomings there, 
You grew content in your poor degree. 

Andrea del Sarto. 

[108] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y& -jSk vi* v;v ^v >|x ^v x|x >k 5^5 w y^ vj* vi* V4* y;v 7?*?$*" 

November Seventh 

'Tis not what man Does which exalts him, but 
what man Would do. 

Saul. 
November Eighth 

The truth itself, 
That's neither man's nor woman's, but just 

God's ; 
None else has reason to be proud of truth: 
Himself will see it sifted, disenthralled, 
And kept upon the height, and in the light, 
As far as, and no farther, than 'tis truth. 

Aurora Leigh. 

November Ninth 

God's gift was that man should conceive of 

truth 
And yearn to gain it, catching at mistake, 
As midway help till he reach fact indeed — 
Yet all the while goes changing what was 

wrought 
From falsehood like the truth, to truth itself. 
A Death in the Desert. 

November Tenth 

On earth I confess an itch for the praise of 
fools — that's Vanity. — Solomon and Balkis. 

[109] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

ViK >♦* m 7^ >♦> PfK >♦* ■*$< yjK >* V*X VJ* V 4 V >^T V|V VJ* 7F7F 

November Eleventh 

The lowest, on true grounds, 
Is worth more than the highest rule, on false: 
Aspire to rule, on the true grounds. 

Colombe's Birthday. 

November Twelfth 

That such a cloud should break, such trouble 

be, 
Ere a man settle, soul and body, down 
Into his true place and take rest forever. 

Lur'ia. 
November Thirteenth 

You must have been most miserable 
To be so cruel. 

Aurora Leigh. 

November Fourteenth 

Let the world's sharpness, like a clasping knife, 
Shut in upon itself and do no harm 
In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm, 
And let us hear no sound of human strife 
After the click of the shutting. Life to life — 
I lean upon thee. Dear, without alarm, 
And feel as safe as guarded by a charm 
Against the stab of worldlings. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[110] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

*vk m^ xix x*\ m ■/(< y^ y^K y&j*\ /i\ w* vjy v^c vjy >^ t^tk 

November Fifteenth 

Fast this life of mine was dying, 
Blind already and calm as death, 

Snowflakes on her bosom lying 
Scarcely heaving with her breath. 

Love came by, and having known her 

In a dream of fabled lands, 
Gently stooped, and laid upon her 

Mystic chrism of holy hands ; 

Drew his smile across her folded 
Eyelids, as the swallow dips ; 

Breathed as finely as the cold did 
Through the locking of her lips. 

So, when Life looked upward, being 
Warmed and breathed on from above, 

What sight could she have for seeing, 
Evermore . . . but only Love? 

Life and Love. 

November Sixteenth 

The Hate of all Hates, or the Love 
Of all Loves, in its Valley or Grove, 
I find them the very warders 
Each of the other's borders. 

Pippa Passes. 

[in] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>^ >|* V^ jQk )®k 'm^k /QCTFWTf* *(* ^\ X|X jQi y$< m 7^7$? 

November Seventeenth 

The face of all the world is changed, I think, 
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul 
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole 
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink 
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink, 
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole 
Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole 
God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink, 
And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear. 
Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

November Eighteenth 

For what are the voices of birds, 

Aye, and of beasts — but w r ords, our words, 

Only so much more sweet? 

Pippa Passes. 

November Nineteenth 

Trust me, 
If there be friends who seek to work our hurt, 
To ruin and drag down earth's mightiest spirits 
Even at God's foot, 'twill be from such as love 
Their zeal will gather most to serve their cause ; 
And least from those who hate. 

Paracelsus. 

[112] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

November Twentieth 

The sun was high 
When first I felt my pulses set themselves 
For concords ; when the rhythmic turbulence 
Of blood and brain swept outward upon words, 
As wind upon the alders, blanching them 
By turning up their under-natures till 
They trembled in dilation. Oh, delight 
And triumph of the poet, — who would say 
A man's mere "yes," a woman's common "no," 
A little human hope of that or this, 
And says the word so that it burns you through 
With a special revelation, shakes the heart 
Of all the men and women in the world, 
As if one came back from the dead and spoke, 
With eyes too happy, a familiar thing 
Become divine i' the utterance! while for him 
The poet, the speaker, he expands with joy; 
The palpitating angel in his flesh 
Thrills inly with consenting fellowship 
To those innumerous spirits who sun thmeselves 
Outside of time. — Aurora Leigh. 

November Twenty-first 

From the beginning Love is whole 
And true; if sure of naught beside, most sure 
Of its own truth at least. — Sordello. 

[113] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

November Twenty-second 

I think of thee ! — my thoughts do twine and bud 
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, 
Put out broad leaves, and soon there's naught 
to see 
Except the straggling green which hides the 
wood. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

November Twenty-third 

I, tempt a woman, to amuse a man, 

That two may mock her heart if it succumb? 

No ! fearing God and standing 'neath His 

heaven, 
I would not dare insult a woman so, 
Were she the meanest woman in the world, 
And he, I cared to please, ten emperors ! 

In a Balcony. 

November Twenty-fourth 

But I have always had one lode-star ; now 
As I look back, I see that I have wasted, 
Or progressed as I have looked toward that 

star — 
A need, a trust, a yearning after God, 
A feeling I have analyzed but late, 
But it existed. — Pauline. 

[114] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 
>K v?< W vi* >4* v;v yj* viv ^ y^. w w >K >?< w v^ t^tj^ 

November Twenty-fifth 

Oh, not alone when life flows still, do truth 
And power emerge, but also when strange 

chance 
Ruffles its current; in unused conjuncture, 
When sickness breaks the body — hunger, watch- 
ing* 
Excess or languor — oftenest death's approach, 

Peril, deep joy or woe. — Paracelsus. 

November Twenty-sixth 

If such as came for wool, sir, went home shorn, 
Where is the wrong I did them? 

Mr. Sludge, "The Medium.' 



99 



November Twenty-seventh 

Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear 
The name I used to run at, when a child, 
From innocent play, and leave the cowslips 

piled, 
To glance up in some face that proved me dear 
With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear 
Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled 
Into the music of Heaven's undefiled, 
Call me no longer. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[115] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

xjx x*x *|>x *ix x+x six y*x vjx?^ A\ x|x y|V V|V y*y V^V?<>|<t>t< 

November Twenty-eighth 

Then thou didst come — to be, 
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining 

fronts, 
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the 

same, 
As river-water hallowed into fonts), 
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame 
My soul with satisfaction of all wants: 
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to 

shame. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

November Twenty-ninth 

Work I may dispense 
With talk about, since work in evidence, 
Perhaps in history ; who knows or cares ? 

A Forgiveness. 

November Thirtieth 

How well I know what I mean to do 

When the long dark Autumn evenings come; 

And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? 
With the music of all thy voices, dumb 

In life's November too! 

By the Fireside. 

[116] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

jQk V|* V|V H* V|* V4V VjV V^C VJiT Vi* >4* V*V V^VVkWJSk 7^7$* 

DECEMBER 

December First 

Which is the weakest thing of all 

Mine heart can ponder ? 
The sun, a little cloud can pall 

With darkness yonder? 
The cloud, a little wind can move 

Where'er it listeth? 
The wind, a little leaf above, 

Though sere, resisteth? 

What time that yellow leaf was green, 

My days were gladder; 
But now, whatever spring may mean, 

I must grow sadder. 
Ah me ! a leaf with sighs can wring 

My lips asunder? 
Then is mine heart the weakest thing 

Itself can ponder. 

Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined 

And drop together, 
And at a blast which is not wind 

The forests wither, 
Thou, from the darkening deathly curse 

To glory breakest, — 
The Strongest of the universe 

Guarding the weakest. — The Weakest Thing. 

[in] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

December Second 

What's Time? Leave Now for dogs and apes! 
Man has Forever. 

A Grammarian's Funeral. 

December Third 

A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne 
From year to year until I saw thy face, 
And sorrow after sorrow took the place 
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn 
As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn 
By a beating heart at dance-time. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

December Fourth 

Needs there groan a world in anguish just to 
teach us sympathy. — Two Poets of Croisic 

December Fifth 

There is no truer truth obtainable 
By man, than comes of music. 

Charles Avison. 

December Sixth 

Truth never hurts the teller 

Fifine at the Fair. 

[118] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

**X J***. X*X X|X X|X X*X >*X X|X>K VjV VfX Xfx" V^C VJx" >^C >J«C VJ< VJ«C 

December Seventh 

Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all 
The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when 
Too vehement light dilated my ideal, 
For my soul's eyes? Will that light come again, 
As now these tears come — falling hot and real? 
Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

December Eighth 

So I soberly laid my last plan 

To extinguish the man . . . 

When sudden, how think ye, the end . . . 

Do you see? Just my vengeance complete, 

The man sprang to his feet, 

Stood erect, caught at God's skirts and prayed ! 

So / was afraid ! — Instans Tyr annus. 

December Ninth 

Thus it is with me; 
Souls alter not, and mine must progress still. 
And this I knew not when I flung away 
My youth's chief aims. I ne'er supposed the 

loss 
Of what few I retained; for no resource 
Awaits me — now behold the change of all! 

Pauline. 

[119] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 
y^ vj< viv viv vi* hv 4v x4x yp- >f? v?< >$< >j< ^s ?p j$t ^>?? 

December Tenth 

An' strange it is, that I who could so dream, 
Should e'er have stooped to aim at aught be- 
neath — 
Aught low, or painful. — Pauline. 

December Eleventh 

And dost thou lift this house's latch, too poor 
For hand of thine? and canst thou think and 

bear 
To let thy music drop here unaware 
In folds of golden fulness at my door? 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

December Twelfth 

Knowledge by suffering entereth, 
And life is perfected in death. 

Vision of Poets. 

December Thirteenth 

So free we seem, so fettered fast we are ! 
Andrea del Sarto. 

December Fourteenth 

Love like mine must have return. 

A SouVs Tragedy. 

[120] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

y& >^ w/p v^ w viv y^t yFWWWW W J4* viv y|v 7?? 

December Fifteenth 

Youth once gone is gone: 
Deeds, let escape, are never to be done. 

Sordello. 
December Sixteenth 

Well, when the eve has its last streak' 
The night has its first star ! — Strafford. 

December Seventeenth 

Do I task my faculty highest, to image success ? 
I but open my eyes, — and perfection, no more 

and no less, 
In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and 

God is seen God 
In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the 

souls and the clod. — Saul. 

December Eighteenth 

I thank all who have loved me in their hearts, 
With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks 

to all 
Who paused a little near the prison-wall 
To hear my music in its louder parts 
Ere they went onward, each one to the mart's 
Or temple's occupation, beyond call. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[121] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

>j< y^i. vjv y^K vj< 7^"?^c y^y^y^ >j* >jv7^r v^c v^c y$i. y^Tf* 

December Nineteenth 
God help all poor souls lost in the dark. 
The Heretic's Tragedy, 

December Twentieth 
Because, however sad the truth may seem, 
Sludge is of all-importance to himself. 

Mr. Sludge, "The Medium." 

December Twenty-first 
Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart! 
Unlike our uses and our destinies. 
Our ministering two angels look surprise 
On one another, as they strike athwart 
Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, 
art 
A guest for queens to social pageantries, 
With gages from a hundred brighter eyes 
Than tears even can make mine, to play thy 
part 
Of chief musician. What hast thou to do 

With looking from the lattice-lights at me, 
A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing 
through 
The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree? 

The chrism is on thine head, — on mine, the 

dew, — 
And Death must dig the level where these 
agree. — Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

[128] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

>^x x*\ x*x y?K y^: vjv y^.y^.y^y« >iv '^<y^y^y^ y^ y^y^: 

December Twenty-second 

If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange 
And be all to me? Shall I never miss 
Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss 
That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange, 
When I look up, to drop on a new range 
Of walls and floors, another home than this? 
Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is 
Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change? 
That's hardest. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 



December Twenty-third 

This world has been harsh and strange; 
Something is wrong: there needeth a change. 

Holy-Cross Day. 



December Twenty-fourth 

It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer 

In the earthen vessel, holding treasure, 

But the main thing is, does it hold good 

measure? 
Heaven soon sets right all other matters. 

Christmas Eve. 

[123] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

v& vp w v;v wv viv viv y|v??v vj* v?«c v?*i vj* >;v vj< v$< v?< w 

December Twenty-fifth 

It's wiser being good than bad ; 

It's safer being meek than fierce: 
It's fitter being sane than mad. 

My own hope is, a sun will pierce 
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; 

That, after Last, returns the First, 
Though a wide compass round be fetched; 

That what began best, can't end worst 

Nor what God blessed once, prove accursed. 

Apparent Failure. 

December Twenty-sixth 

At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time, 

When you set your fancies free, 
Will they pass to where — by death, fools think, 

imprisoned — 
Low he lies who once you loved so, whom you 
loved so, 

— Pity me? 

Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken ! 

What had I on earth to do 
With the slothful, with the mawkish, the un- 
manly ? 
Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel 
— Being — who ? 

Epilogue. 

[124] 



WITH THE BROWNINGS 

TQk V|* /Qk >|V V|V V|V V|V V^VTK nx x|v X|X y|V x^x x^c y|K 7Jx"?J? 

December Twenty-seventh 

One who never turned his back but marched 
breast forward, 
Never doubted clouds would break, 
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, 

wrong would triumph, 
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 

Sleep to wake. 
No, at noonday in the bustle of man's work- 
time 
Greet the unseen with a cheer ! 
Bid him forward, breast and back as either 

should be, 
"Strive and thrive !" cry "Speed, — fight on, fare 
ever 

There as here !" — Epilogue. 

December Twenty-eighth 

Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that 
burns ! 

Earth's returns 
For whole centuries of folly, noise, and sin! 

Shut them in, 
With their triumphs and their glories and the 
rest! 

Love is best. 

Love Among the Ruins. 

[125] 



FROM DAY TO DAY 

x*x xix x*x xix xjx *?x yf< >?x>K ^ ^x y|x ,jy /|y >;y >$y >y< yj* 

December Twenty-ninth 

Earth breaks up, time drops away, 
In flows Heaven with its new day. 

Christmas Eve, 

December Thirtieth 

So, the year's done with I 

(Love me forever!) 
All March begun with, 

April's endeavor; 
May-wreaths that bound me 

June needs must sever; 
Now snows fall round me, 

Quenching June's fever — 

(Love me forever!) 

Love. 

December Thirty-first 

Fear death? — to feel the fog in my throat, 

The mist in my face, 
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote 

I am nearing the place, 
The power of the night, the press of the storm, 

The post of the foe; 
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible 
form, 

Yet the strong man must go: 

[126] 



W ITH THE BROWNINGS 
*W 4* 4* ^ ^ 'is x*x s?K 4k*1\ ^ V|x /^ yjy yjy >$* ??s:?^ 

For the journey is done and the summit at- 
tained, 
And the barriers fall, 
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be 
gained, 
The reward of it all. 
I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more, 
The best and the last! 

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and 
forebore, 
And bade me creep past. 
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my 
peers 
The heroes of old, 
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's 
arrears 
Of pain, darkness, and cold. 
For sudden the worst turns the best to the 
brave, 
The black minute's at end, 
And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, 

Shall dwindle, shall blend, 
Shall change, shall become a peace out of pain, 

Then a light, then thy breast, 
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee 
again, 
And with God be the rest ! — Prospice. 

[127] 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 388 863 




